by West, Kyle
“Check in often,” Ashton said as we exited the ship. “And good luck.”
Michael led the way, pushing through the snow. Julian walked in his wake while Samuel, Makara, and I kept up. I stole a quick glance at Perseus behind. It had landed not too far from the wreckage of Odin, perhaps one hundred yards away. Its outline was almost lost to the swirling flurry.
Makara looked in that direction and sighed. “A lot of memories on that ship.”
It didn’t feel as cold today as it had when we’d landed here about a week ago, but the wind was still bitter.
I kept thinking of Jade. It was hard to imagine that weasel of a man ordering anyone around.
Through the shifting of snow, I saw the surface of the icy lake appear, its surface reflecting the gray sunlight dully. We reached its shoreline, walking in the direction of the Bunker entrance. Across the lake, the shape of the massive mountain was barely discernable against the gray sky.
The lake’s edge led us to the familiar, frozen stream leading into the canyon, at the end of which lay the hidden Bunker entrance. It wouldn’t be long before we reached the icefall.
Michael readied his rifle, and the rest of us followed suit by drawing our weapons.
Makara stepped past Michael, approaching the icefall cautiously. Julian was just a few steps behind. Makara slipped on the ice, and would have fallen if Julian hadn’t caught her arm. After steadying herself, Makara gave him a terse thanks.
Michael, meanwhile, walked toward the icefall. The opening he and Julian had made still remained. Michael picked his way over the ice pile. Julian and Makara followed him, while Samuel and I brought up the rear.
Once we stood safely in front of the Bunker door, Makara peered inside. She dug out a flashlight from her pack and clicked it on. She pointed the light inside, revealing the empty passageway leading into darkness. I retrieved my own flashlight, keeping it off to conserve energy. If the need arose, I could turn it back on.
“Clear,” she said, her breath forming a cloud. “Be ready.”
She walked inside, and we followed, leaving the horrible, dry cold behind. As we entered the obscuring shadow, the snow continued to fall.
***
Bunker 84 was as quiet as a tomb, and for some reason, it felt like we were walking into one.
Before long, the corridor opened into the park filled with dead plants. The cool air was sharp with the scent of metal and the dry smell of dead vegetation. Makara shined her light on the park, scanning left and right. A lot of dangers could be lurking there. I turned on my own light, helping Makara push back the darkness. Nothing moved.
“Is this close to where you were attacked?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “We were attacked, drugged, and taken down to the bottom.”
“Do you know the way from here?”
I shook my head. “I assume there’s a set of stairs that’ll take us to the hangar.”
Makara nodded, turning left. She made sure to stay about twenty feet from the edge of the deadened plants. It would be easy to be ambushed from there.
“Look,” Samuel said. “Stairwell up ahead.”
We paused before a flight of steps leading down. Fifteen or so steps descended to the first landing, before turning 180 degrees and continuing downward to the next level.
Michael and Julian followed Makara down the metal steps. Michael held his AR at the ready, while Julian kept his handgun in his right hand. Samuel and I, once again, brought up the rear. I glanced backward, scanning with my light to make sure nothing was tailing us. Still clear. I followed everyone downstairs.
We went down a couple of levels before the stairs came to a stop. I had expected this flight to go all the way down, but apparently we had to find another way to reach the hangar. Makara walked at a slow, careful pace. Her flashlight revealed many open doorways in the corridor – doorways from which threats could attack us. Every few moments she paused, listening, causing the rest of us to follow suit. There was nothing but our breaths.
“Keep moving,” Samuel said. His voice, though soft, carried in the confines of the corridor.
We had walked a few more steps when boots pounded on metal. They came from behind.
I whirled around, shining my light into the darkness. There was no one there; they must have ducked into one of the doorways I’d just passed.
“Who’s there?” I called.
From ahead came more stomping of boots. We pressed against each other back-to-back, our guns pointed ahead and behind.
“Lords or Angels?” a male voice called from Makara’s direction.
She stepped forward. “Angels. Who are you?”
The man didn’t answer immediately. I was ready to snap into action, shooting whoever jumped out at me.
“Makara?”
This caused other men in the shadows to murmur. If I had to guess, there were maybe ten of them. We were far outnumbered.
“Yeah,” she said. “Who are you? What happened here?”
“Makara, we thought you were dead,” the man said. “Where were you? What happened?”
The man had a strange accent, like none I’d ever heard spoken before. It tickled at my memory, though; I felt like I’d seen a movie where I heard a similar manner of speaking. The accent, though detectable, was buried under the gruff way of speaking that was common to most Raiders.
I realized that what I was hearing was an English accent. This man must have been born there, but had been living in the U.S. when Ragnarok fell – which meant that he had stayed here.
“Tell me who you are, first,” Makara said. “For all I know, this is a trick. And I need you to put your weapons down.”
“You don’t have to worry,” the man said. “Former Lost Angel under Raine, and now I’m one of Char’s Raiders. I’m setting my gun on the floor, and stepping forward. My men will do the same.”
Before Makara could say anything, I heard the thud of guns being set on the floor. A moment later, the man stepped out of a doorway, hands on his head, into Makara’s flashlight beam. Makara’s arms stiffened.
“I’m Lionel,” he said. “Lionel Pierce. We’re all Angels who’ve been hiding up here since the Lords betrayed us.”
I watched Lionel as he spoke, trying to figure out if we could trust him. He certainly looked like he’d grown up in the Old World, and his face was familiar to me. He had a grizzled white beard, and the wrinkles on his face told me he was at least in his late fifties. Maybe even younger, given the harshness of the world.
“I recognize you,” Makara said, “though we’ve never spoken. How many do you have with you?”
“Here, I have nine. If you mean how many Angels are left...there’s no way of knowing that. There’s less every day. They turned on us three days ago, during lights out. Forced the rest of us up here. They keep pushing us back, and we keep going further up. This place is big...far bigger than we expected.”
Makara nodded. “Alright.” She relaxed a bit, lowering her weapon. She motioned us to do the same. “Where are you headed, now?”
The man pointed upward. “We were trying to find a way out of here.”
“Don’t do that,” Makara said. “We have to take this place back. That’s why we came.”
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Lionel said, “what happened to you guys?”
“We lost the spaceships in an air battle with dragons. We found another one. As soon as we did, we came back here to clean up this mess.”
“Everyone thinks you’re dead. But now that you’re here...if we could somehow band together, we might have a shot of pushing them back. It’ll be hard, though. They have most of the supplies, and they’re working together.”
“We have some extra guns, if your men need them,” Makara said. “And yes, we need to work together...focus on finding other groups and taking the fight to them.”
“Alright,” Lionel said. “We’ll join up, then. This Bunker still has lots of supplies lying around. Weapons. Even food, sometimes
. But the Lords still outnumber and outgun us.”
“The only way we can win is by taking the right fights,” Makara said. She nodded at Lionel. “You can take up your weapons again. Let’s get out of this corridor and find a safe spot to make a plan.”
Lionel nodded. “Alright. There’s a corridor nearby that we haven’t explored yet.”
“Lead us there,” Makara said.
Lionel gave a nod and ducked into an open doorway. The men who had waited in the darkness brushed past, acknowledging Samuel and me with nods. They looked thin and tired.
After they filed after their leader, we followed them.
Chapter 10
We followed Lionel and his band of Angels into a room that must have once been a dormitory. Several bunks lay angled from the wall, stripped of sheets. A soiled mattress lay haphazardly on the floor. A bulletin board still had yellowed announcements tacked to it. Seeing the evidence of life in this fallen Bunker was haunting.
Lionel turned left. The dorm stretched a long way, and we passed row after row of bunks. In Bunker 108, we had full apartments, but here, it was more austere and militaristic. Beside each bunk was a small, metal nightstand, and at each one’s foot was a metal trunk. Some of the trunks were locked, but others had been busted open, revealing empty interiors.
Once we reached the end of the dorm, another doorway opened on our right, leading into darkness.
“This is the corridor I was talking about,” Lionel said.
“Where do you think it goes?” Samuel asked.
“Guess we’re about to find out.”
Lionel and his Angels went through the doorway. We followed.
The corridor was dark and claustrophobic. There was about a foot of space above my head, and hardly room for two people to walk side by side. The hallway took a sudden ninety-degree turn to the left. We walked a moment longer before it turned ninety degrees to the right. It was a strange bit of planning, and I had no idea what purpose it served.
Ahead, the corridor opened into a wide, cavernous space. Everyone filtered out and stood in the open area, gazing at the room in wonder. Makara, Lionel, and I shined our flashlight beams around. Banks of silver servers lined the wall directly to our left. Ahead, glass windows separated us from a large, conference-style room with rows of computers. The computers were down one level, in a sunken control center accessible only by steps leading down. We stood on a balcony overhanging that room. It looked like a place from which military operations would be conducted. A gigantic screen spread across the far wall of the control room. The display screen, along with all the computers, was dark.
“What is this place?” Makara asked.
“The Command Center,” Samuel said. “Bunker One had a similar setup. I’m surprised there’s one of this magnitude in Bunker 84. It’s nearly as large as Bunker One’s.”
Lionel pointed to a couple of Angels. “Secure the corridor. Raise the alarm if you hear anything.”
The Angels followed Lionel’s command as Makara wandered off, brushing her hand along the servers.
“They’re warm,” she said.
Samuel placed his hand on one of them. Several of the men did the same.
“What does it matter, if it’s not going to help us find the others?” Michael asked.
Both Samuel and Makara looked at Michael thoughtfully, but it was Samuel who spoke.
“Who said we couldn’t do that?”
Michael frowned, wondering at Samuel’s words. Samuel walked to the glass door separating the overhang from the control room below. He pulled it open, walking down the metal steps.
“Leave your men here,” Makara said to Lionel. “We’re going down with Samuel.”
She motioned for Michael, Julian, and me to follow her.
While Lionel and the Angels stood guard, we went down the steps. I was the last one through, letting the glass door close automatically behind me.
The room was surprisingly warm; these computers were also running. They had to be powered, only I didn’t know where from. When the Community lived here, they had gotten their power from the fusion generator aboard Aeneas. But there was no spaceship in Bunker 84, so Jade and the Lords must have devised an alternate power source, or maybe they were using backup power. Whatever the case, they needed power to grow food, pump water, and supply ventilation.
Samuel stood in front of a thin, sleek monitor in the center of the Control Room. He pressed a random key. The monitor came to life, displaying a login screen.
“So it is on,” Makara said.
“We might be able to access the Bunker security system from here,” Samuel said. “If so, we could use the cameras to find other Angels.”
“And enemies,” Julian said.
“Not just that,” Makara said. “We might even be able to communicate. I’m sure an intercom system is built into this entire Bunker.”
“Probably,” I said. “Ours had one, so I imagine they all would.”
Samuel logged in with his username and password. Instantly, the desktop screen loaded.
“Surprised it took it,” Michael said.
“It did at Bunker One,” Samuel said. “It must have updated at every Bunker still online.” Samuel paused, thinking. “Don’t know much about computers, actually. All that stuff I said...I have no idea how to do it.”
“Ashton would know,” I said.
“We can try contacting him,” Makara said.
“This deep underground?” Michael asked.
Makara didn’t have an answer for that.
“There has to be a way to communicate,” I said. “Ashton called Bunker 84 while he was in Skyhome.”
Samuel clicked the start menu. As soon as he did, the other computer screens came to life, bathing the control room with blue light.
In addition, the large display screen ahead flashed on, slowly gaining in color and clarity. A large map of the United States and Canada was displayed.
“What did you do?” Makara asked.
Samuel shrugged. The large screen displayed red dots pinpricking the topographic map, each with a number above it. 84. 16. 108.
“Bunker locations,” I said.
A similar map had been on the LCD of the plane that took us to Bunker One, only this one was far more detailed.
The map also appeared on Samuel’s screen.
“It looks like I can control the map,” Samuel said.
He clicked on the location of Bunker 84, located in Northern California. Immediately, he was taken to a web site of some sort, dedicated to the Bunker. On the screen were links naming different departments. Hydroponics. Recycling. The Citizens’ Council. Security.
“Click that last one,” Makara said.
Samuel clicked on “Security.” The website was bare and utilitarian, and obviously not meant for most residents’ general use. There were several more links. An Officers’ Directory. Nuclear Development. I wanted to tell Samuel to click on that one, just out of curiosity, but nukes weren’t what we were after. One of the links said “Security Feed.”
“There,” Makara said.
Samuel clicked on it. More screens popped up, displaying on the large screen ahead as well as on Samuel’s computer. Row upon row of camera feeds loaded, ranging in number from one all the way to three hundred and six. Not all the camera feeds could fit on Samuel’s screen, so he had to scroll down to see them all. As he scrolled, the main screen ahead also scrolled down, mimicking Samuel’s actions.
The only problem was, all of the video feeds were dead, with completely black screens. The word “offline” showed in the bottom right corner of each feed.
“Offline,” Makara said.
“Go back,” I said. “And click on the ‘Power Plant’ link.”
Samuel complied, digging his way back from the camera feeds until he arrived at the listing of departments. He clicked on “Power Plant.” It took us to a screen that showed basic schematics for the reactors that must have been powering the Bunker. There was a “detail
s,” which Samuel clicked.
Hibernation. Backup module available.
“What does that mean?” Makara asked.
“It means the reactor must have shut down once it realized it wasn’t being used,” Samuel said. “Probably.”
“Then how is this place running?” Michael asked.
Samuel shrugged. “There must be some form of backup power for the Command Center servers alone. This place would be the most important to keep online. I guess the cameras have lower priority.”
“Try turning the backup module on,” Julian said.
Samuel clicked it, setting it to on. The computer thought a moment before accepting the change.
Nothing happened. Then, a message appeared on the computer screen, giving a timer.
“What?” Makara asked.
Samuel read the message out loud. “Backup module online in five minutes...”
“Is it really turning on?” I asked.
“I guess,” Makara said.
“While we’re here,” Samuel said, “might as well look at some of that other stuff.”
Samuel backed out of the screen. The countdown was minimized while he clicked on the “Nuclear Development” link.
“Really, Samuel?” Makara asked.
He shrugged. “Might as well take a look.”
A wealth of information overtook the screen. There were twelve silos. One through three were empty, while the rest read “armed.”
“So three of the silos have shot off missiles?” Makara asked, now curious. “Where to? When?”
“Let me see what I can dig up,” Samuel said. “Maybe Elias had been busy.”
“If they had gotten to this computer,” I said, “don’t you think they would have restored power a long time ago?”
“Good point,” Samuel said. “Which makes me believe that the Community did not fire any missiles. They probably couldn’t even get past the login screen.”
“So, who shot them off?” Makara said.
“This would have been before the Community,” Julian said. “The U.S. fired three nuclear missiles in the fifteen years Bunker 84 was online.”
